Tigist

It’s been almost two years since your mother took you both away from me and broke up our family. Needless to say, it has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to go through. And something I would not wish upon my worst enemy. I’m so sorry that you’re going through this and I promise that I will do everything in my power for us to reunite again. What your mother did was morally wrong and you will realize this as you get older. We had what most people would consider, “the perfect life here in America.” We had a nice house located in a beautiful lakeside community, and God had blessed us with two loving and healthy children. I had a beautiful wife, a successful career that provided us with a comfortable lifestyle, and we were surrounded with family, friends and relatives who loved us. You went to a nice school and had many good friends. I could not have asked for more. But all of that would come to a sudden end when your mother decided to take you and your sister to Syria on an alleged two month vacation. Against my better judgment, I agreed to it. As I begin to share with you this story and the events that took place soon after you left for Syria, my heart goes out to you and your sister. While some of the information I will share with you may, at times, be hurtful or even embarrassing, I want to assure you that I am not doing it to be spiteful or vindictive towards your mother or anyone else. I am simply sharing with you my personal feelings and struggles, with the hope that you and your sister will have a better understanding of our lives and forgive your parents for this very difficult situation we put you through. I think you have the right to know how all of this transpired and what led to this horrible outcome. You left for Syria on June 28, 2010, and were to be back by the 6th of September so that you could start school on the 7th. About two years prior to your departure to Syria, your mother and I began to grow apart. She became more distant from me and withdrawn from our life as a family. We had a very hard time trying to communicate with one another. This was nothing new, as we had always had disagreements throughout our marriage. As a matter of fact, it had been that way from the very beginning. However, the last two years, in particular, were by far the most troubling. Your mother and I were married on October 14, 2001, in Syria while I was vacationing there with my mother. Things were different then; I was different. I had turned thirty-four years of age that year and, in my mind, I was ready to find the woman I would spend the rest of my life with. People always told me that I did not look my age, that I looked ten years younger. I had had a good life thus far and prided myself as being a successful man in many ways. That is not to say I was rich financially, but that I had experienced the taste of success with the many business ventures and crazy ideas I had come up with in the hopes of someday becoming a millionaire. After many attempts at success, and practically depleting my life savings on the many failed ideas, I took a few months off to assess my life and where I was headed. I needed an income to sustain my way of life and found myself applying for a job at a local car dealership. At first it was hard for me to be working for someone, as I had always had my own business, but I got used to it and found that I was good at this car selling gig – and the money was not bad, either. I liked this job and soon set my sights on moving up in the company. A few months after I began my new career, I decided to go on vacation to Syria with my mother. For starters I would take some time off to see Syria for the first time since we moved to America over twenty years earlier, and also, as my mother said, “You might find someone there to share your new life with.” This was very normal for men to go back to their native land and find a bride. And so it was, in August 2001, we were on our way to Syria. I must say that I truly enjoyed that trip. We stayed at my sister’s house in Alfouhila, a small town on the outskirts of Homs, which is one of the largest cities in Syria. That is where I was born, but it had changed so much from the vague memories I had in my head. I walked around the town trying to see where I used to play in order to trigger some suppressed memories. It seemed that I had no memories of my childhood at all. Most of what I remember was after the age of ten. What ever happened to the early years? I began to trace my steps from the house I used to live in to the schools I attended. Nothing was bringing back the slightest recollection. Nonetheless, I met so many nice people there and visited with old friends who had to reintroduce themselves to me. After a week of receiving guests, cousins, and family members, my mother started to push the idea of meeting someone whom I might call my wife. My sister suggested that I go to a relative’s wedding party in a town called Alhafar. She said that there might be some girls there I might like. It was there that I saw your mother for the first time. I noticed her from a distance and thought that she might be a girl I would consider. So I asked about her. I was told that her name was Dania, that she was a great girl from a good family and that her mother was a distant cousin of my father. As the night was coming to an end, she walked by our table and our eyes met for a few seconds. I was sitting with some friends and one of them asked her to come over. They introduced us and a moment later she went on her way. They asked me what I thought of her, and I said that she was very pretty, but a little too tall for me. As my vacation was coming to an end, I had accepted the fact that I did not find anyone in Syria I could call my wife. And so I would spend the next few days just relaxing and enjoying my vacation. My mother, on the other hand, was not very happy. She was hoping that I would find a girl so that she might finally relax and have some peace, with all of her children now married. Our departing flight back to America was scheduled for the 15th of September. The 11th of September of that year would change everything. I went to bed the night before just like any other night. When I woke up that morning and saw what had taken place in America, and the images that appeared on the screen of the twin towers on fire, I was in shock. I could not fathom what was happening. I wanted to be back in America. I told my mother what had happened and she was heartbroken. It felt surreal as these images were being played and replayed a hundred times. America was under attack. We received the news that all flights into and out of the United States were now suspended till further notice. I called my travel agent to confirm our flight and was told to postpone the flight for two weeks or until further notice. For the next week or so we were glued to the television and had no interest in doing anything else.